Quality Television
by Poisoned Scarlet
Summary: Dating Show AU. This was just supposed to be a way to jump-start her acting career, but somewhere along the way she ended up getting attached to the show's main bachelor: Soul Evans.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Soul Eater.

**Quality Television  
><strong>**by.** _Poisoned Scarlett_

The skyline is a wreath of purples and blues and she rips out tulips from the side garden, sitting on her thighs to pick apart the petals. She doesn't rip the flower apart for long, not before melancholy sets in and she realizes she's beginning to act like the other girls on set: irrational and upsetting. She casts quick looks around, finding no camera lens trained on her, and her shoulders relax.

Maka _knew_ this would happen; it's a common media trick to bring in higher ratings. By welcoming back the coincidentally lovelorn ex-girlfriend mid-season, everyone could watch the drama explode from the comfort of their living rooms. Maka has already seen two girls lose it, shouting about unfair additions to the show and not needing anymore _competition_.

Maka had been unsettled for different reasons at the sight of the ex-girlfriend—Anya Hepburn, with her silk blonde hair that reached her waist and pretty, aristocratic features. She was stunning, reducing all of them to mere shadows in an instant. It did not take long to realize why Soul had dated her; she was gorgeous and very deserving of her title of a model.

But Maka isn't angry at the competition, actually—she's angry at _herself_, at how she was drawn into the drama of reality dating shows within a few weeks. It was dumb; she was better than this, she _knew_ she was. Maka had been grounded with reality at the sight of Anya, Soul Evan's infamous ex-girlfriend, because the _entire reason_ she agreed to go on the show was to jump-start her acting career—_not_ to cozy up with the gold-platinum-bronze-_whatever_ record musician slash bachelor Soul Evans.

She had been down on her luck before this. She'd been feeling restless after being turned down from auditions time and time again and being selected to participate in some hyped-up dating show was one way to get her name out there—_especially_ if she did not make a total ditz out of herself.

As far as she knew—or as far as her close friend Tsubaki let her know—she was a hit because of her compassionate and knowledgeable nature, although her temper was something widely gossiped about on the web. Maka did not want to know about that; she'd lost her temper twice on the show for reasons that did not pertain to Soul Evans, but rather the pranks of girls who had been hired alongside her as potential 'girlfriends'.

Maka hadn't meant to make it so far into the show—she expected to last one or two episodes at most— but now she was one of the final four contestants. Somehow, she had made it nearly to the end…and then they brought in _Anya._

_It's not for him, it's for me. This is a good opportunity to put my name out there, _Maka insists, placing the tulip petals on the grassy floor in a circle. The garden was quiet save for the calm, rippling water of the fountain a few feet away. _He's on a date with her, _Maka finally admits, unable to help that sting of jealousy. She doesn't know when she started to feel so jealous over him, but he probably did something dumb and she ended up getting attached to him. That's how it always happens. Maka groans inwardly; this had spiraled off so awfully, why did she have to go and get attached to _him _of all people? This was the worst situation she could have ever asked for.

After all, Soul Evans was even _more_ reluctant than her to participate in the dating show orchestrated by his famous violinist brother Wes Evans and his equally famous actress fiancée Liz Thompson. It also didn't help that Liz was a business woman at heart. The show was created for their impending wedding: Soul needed a date and they decided this was the best way to do it if Soul refused to put himself out there. Wes had been smiling too broadly at the opening ceremony for him not to know that Soul was infinitely annoyed with this turn of events.

Soul made sure _everyone_ knew in each episode, too. But it made for a good show—to break the walls of the emotionally reticent man; the old love cliché. Perfect unfeeling and thoughtless American entertainment, Maka thinks bitterly.

_"This'll be lots of fun, don't you guys think?" _Liz Thompson, host of the show, had smirked when Maka first arrived to the lavish compound. _"Prepare yourself, girls, because you won't be selected to date my future brother-in-law without approval from the **entire** family first!"_

It was a nice way to make up for forcing him into a dating show, Maka guessed. But it also meant the show could go on for _seasons _because no one expected Soul to find his 'future long-term partner' on the first season—who did? Soul wanted _nothing_ to do with the show. He was a right bastard when he wanted to be, too; he did everything possible to avoid interaction with the girls, and most of the show was based on the drama brewing between the girls—_not _the many clever hiding places Soul Evans had discovered within the course of three days.

_"What are you doing here?" Maka asked when she found Soul crouched behind a rose bush, a glass of juice in his hand. He jumped at the sound of her voice, slitting his eyes when he realized who she was._

_"There a camera on you?" He demanded._

_"No," Maka frowned, looking behind her. "They're on break—actually, Kim and Jackie are fighting again so they're probably on them right now." She looked around a little, taking sips of her water bottle. "Is this where you've been all this time?"_

_He was tense; he always looked tense. Maka had only met him twice: once for the introduction on TV, and another time behind set for a more intimate greeting. Both times he had looked at her like she was the devil incarnate; both times Maka had pursed her lips at him and kept her words crisp and polite, if not edgy._

_"What's it to you?" He threw back, sucking on his straw loudly._

_Maka let out a breath, walking past him. "It's your show, you know. You can do what you want with it, the people will eat it up. But hiding will only make this run longer," Maka told him as she walked away._

_"It's my brother's show and his damn girlfriend is running it," he shouted back, frustrated. "I can't do shit!"_

_"If you really wanted to end it, you could have done so a long time ago." Maka faced him, green eyes steely. His own widened but before she could say anything more, Maka noticed movement to her right and when she glanced, she found a camera trained on her. She closed her mouth and drank water out of her bottle instead, making a show of stretching before she jogged away, leaving Soul staring after her._

That had been their third meeting and what softened him towards her, she supposed. He was still pretty mean, could piss her off faster than her papa could, but his meanness did not compare to the other girls. If she got a rude look, the other girls got the rude look, the rude words, _and _the turned back as he let them know he was uninterested in anything they had to say. Maka would take a rude look (sometimes rude words) compared to _that _any day_._

But he softened further, the longer the show ran.

Soul took to ruffling her hair after winning challenges and grinned down at her when she said something smart alecky. The way she bumped foreheads with him fiercely once when he snarled at her to _shut up _and she snarled back _make me_, the way he handed her tissues and her neglected dinner when the other girls conspired against her and destroyed her well-loved edition of _William Butler Yeats, _made her want to consider the idea that he liked her better than the other girls. He was kind to her, kinder than he was to others, and he spoke more to her, even if she felt it was more platonic than romantic. She was not as pretty as the other girls—she was cute, not beautiful like the others. She was also _not_ his type; she functioned more like a foil for the other girls than actual competition. There had been two other girls like her and they had been voted off early in the show.

Maka often wondered _why _she had been chosen in the first place, why she was even still on the show when its season was nearly over. Among the other wolves in the forest, she was nothing more than a rabbit ready to be slaughtered. Not even her fiery temper could hold against a gang of them, not when they bogged her down daily. The fact that she had held her ground, wiped her nose and eyes bravely and did not let the fact that her treasured book had been ruined by them get to her, was astonishing in itself.

"I heard they're having fun!"

"That's bullshit—he dumped her because she's a princess! You saw the way she talked to us, like we weren't worth her time. I hate that kind of attitude—I don't know why they brought her back to the show! It's obvious Soul doesn't like her!"

"But what if he _still does? _They dated for almost half a year! I mean, _she _still loves him, she told us!"

"It's half a _year! _That's not love!"

"Wha—you said you loved him!"

"Th-that's different!"

"No, it's not you…!"

Maka looks down at her lap as their bickering reached new levels. Half a year is a lot longer than she could say for herself. Maka dusts herself off and wanders closer to the fountain, away from the cameras, and mourns the loss of thin, crinkled, pages; of tender creases at the corners, marking words that she held close to her heart. She _loved_ that book; it had been a very expensive gift from her theater mentor, who said her honey-sweet voice made Yeats poems come alive within the bosoms of all hearts.

Yeats might have also turned her into _a little_ of a romantic. That might explain the jealousy, the way her cheeks reddened whenever he ruffled her hair.

Maka dusts her hands of grass and dirt. It's fine if Soul never felt anything for her. It wasn't supposed to end up that way, anyway. She was just happy that he liked her as a friend. Having Soul as a friend would be nice in itself, even if what she was feeling towards him was definitely not platonic. Soul Evans had a way of crawling under your skin after you looked past his abrasive personality.

_I'm doing good, though, I've made it this far. _Maka just needs to get her name out there, which she definitely has. She's sure that if she tried to audition now, she'd have a better chance at getting at least a minor role somewhere.

But even if she doesn't, it was worth a try.

"Hey."

Maka startles, looking up just in time to catch a parcel thrown at her. She stares down at it, dumbfounded, and looks back up at Soul—enigmatic Soul, with his spiky, unruly, silver blonde hair, with his handsome smirk and lazy burgundy eyes. She tells herself to stop, to _quiet_, because the softness in his eyes doesn't mean anything under the camera lens.

"Soul? What's this?" Maka asks. It felt like a book, but Maka doesn't let her heart thump loud. Soul has given gifts to other participants, make-up and perfume and clothes and the like. They're more for the sake of moving the show along. But Maka's sure it isn't elimination time yet. Soul has never given gifts outside of the elimination rounds. "It's early—I thought you were on a date with Anya?"

"Cut it short," is all he says, shoving his hands into his jacket's pocket. He gnaws on his inner lip, glances at her furtively, sighs in frustration and kicks his foot out restlessly. She frowns and raises a brow when he quickly looks away from her stare.

"What?" he snaps, when she doesn't avert her gaze.

"What happened?"

"Nothing—can you just _open it?_"

"What for?"

"Maka, just open it!"

"Why should I? If this is some joke…"

"It's not, that was _one time_ and it was funny," Soul rolls his eyes when Maka gives him a flat look, but concedes. "Trust me, it's not a joke. And I cut the date early because I needed to straighten out some things with production. Everything is fine now."

"What kinds of things?" Maka opens the package as she asks, curious, and sucks in air sharply. The water ripples in the fountain, languorously, melodiously, and she shudders. Her hands tremble and she pulls out a brand-new edition of all the collected poems of William Butler Yeats—_all_ _of them,_ including a few of his most renowned plays. The book is hardbound, the pages gilded gold with a royal purple bookmark caught between them, and when she runs her hand over the cover, her lip quivers.

It's even more gorgeous than her old edition.

She cracks it open carefully, marveling the pages with her fingertips, and stills once more when she finds—

Maka doesn't usually cry, but she hasn't spoken with her theater mentor since university four years ago. Yet there, below Soul's own kind note, on a corner much like in her old edition, is the scrawl of her mentor—_you walk in beauty, I always thought Byron suited you best, don't you?—_and she utters a hiccupping, wounding, laugh, remembering his gruff chuckles and jolly eyes so warmly.

"This…you bought this?"

"They ruined your old one, right? That was really uncool," he explains, smiling crookedly at her. "I could have gotten you the exact same one you had, but this one has extra content and I thought you'd like that better…"

"This—thank you so much. This means so much to me. I love it!" Maka looks up, tears brimming, her smile the most joyous it had been since she came on the show. She laughs with beauty, her laughter bright and happy, "Thank you so much, Soul!"

Soul stares at her and then drops himself beside her, leaning forward to rub his eyes out. His breath is uneven, jaw tight as he swallows.

"Check the bookmark," Soul coughs, rubbing the back of his head. Under the evening light, his reddening cheeks are concealed. As she reads the lines he had bracketed with watery eyes, he adds, "He isn't that bad, I guess. Still cheesy, but not bad."

_She looked in my heart one day and saw your image was there_, Maka reads, holding her breath. She knows this poem; she has caressed it with her sighs countless times, read it aloud to her theater coach, Sid, during one of his weepy, drunk evenings spent mourning over love lost. It's fitting, Maka thinks.

_She has gone weeping away._

"Most of his stuff is really gloomy, though, you should read happier poems."

"Idiot," Maka sniffles, rubbing her nose out. Her face is warm, as if with a fever. "Don't you know what this poem is about? It's about being unable to let go of an old love despite being in love with someone new!"

"Yeahh, but I told you, poetry isn't my thing. It's too gloomy—but there's a reason I outlined _those_three lines. They fit. That's all that matters."

Maka's fingers run down the poem.

"You're not really _that_ dense, are you?" he teases, grinning when she jumps. He swears her pigtails shot straight up, too.

Maka sends him a fierce look—one that does nothing because of how red her cheeks had gone, how her lips pressed together in that nervous way of hers. She's adorable; she's always been and he doesn't understand why he didn't just pick her from the beginning. He's liked her since he first laid eyes on her when he looked through hundreds of profiles, the beautiful and feisty blonde from the dead Nevada town. "I-I know! I'm not thick, I know what you mean. What happened," Maka clarifies, "with Anya is obvious."

"Show ends tonight if you want," is all he says.

Maka doesn't speak for a minute. She reads through another poem, her chest swelling, her blood rushing through her veins, throbbing at every pulse point like she had run a marathon. It dimmed a little when she realized what he was doing, but it still warmed her heart to know he had chosen her. When she finally shuts the book, pressing it to her chest protectively, she looks over at Soul and quirks a smile, her cheeks bright pink, her emerald eyes glimmering, "Only if you let me teach you some poetry on Saturday's!" and she laughs when he snorts, making an exaggeratedly pained face, and she takes his hand when he offers it and brings him into a tight embrace he returns fiercely.

"Don't look," he murmurs against the side of her head, reaching between them to push her thick volume between them securely. "Cameras are rolling; they've got us from all angles."

"What—I thought they didn't film—wait, when you spoke with production…?"

"They wanted to at least film this," he sighs, burying his face in her hair to hide his burning face. "_This is really uncool, I hope they burn this show in two years,_" he groans as she giggles. She feels his weary smile against the crook of her neck as she digs her fingers into his sides with her embrace. She doesn't want this to end, but she knows it soon will: Soul will have his wish of ending the show and she will have gotten her name out. In a way, they had both gotten what they wanted, she thinks somewhat woefully.

"CUT!" One of the directors yells, and other camera men mobilize to the girls who are starting to cause a scene inside the house. It seemed it was no longer a secret. Maka can hear them screeching from where she stood with Soul.

"They won't burn it, y'know, they'll probably replay this season for years," Maka reasons and he groans louder, slumping against her broodily while she pats his back. Without the cameras, there was no need to continue the hug, but Soul did not move and she did not mind. "But on the plus side, you at least have a date for your brother's wedding. After that, your brother won't bug you anymore and we can continue with our lives."

Soul shifts, glancing at her from the corner of his eye as the other girls begin to appear. He pulls back just enough to give her an uncertain look. "Together?"

Maka stares and then her cheeks burn with vigor and her eyes bulge. "W-w-wait, you mean, you actually like me?"

"Wha—_yes, _why else would I give you this," he grips the book between them, "and end the show six episodes early?"

"Because you hate it?"

"If I just _wanted_ to take you to my brother's wedding," Soul scowls, pink dusting his cheeks, "I woulda' just let the show run and eliminated everyone until you were left. 'Cept, I don't want that, I…" As his scowl deepens so did the red on his cheeks. Maka's eyes widen and he swallows; she was super adorable and he suddenly did not know what to do with his hands. "I…kind of…really like you so… if we can go on a few dates to see if this can go where I…want it to, if it's fi—STOP LAUGHING AT ME," He blows up, unable take her snorting giggles, the delighted glimmer in her pretty jewel eyes. She was so pretty and kind; Soul regrets waiting so long. So in the end he just growls and groans and ends up burying his face in her shoulder, steaming with embarrassment, while she giggles in his ear and hugs him tighter.

"I'd love to go on a date with you, Soul," Maka answers his rambles and gently squeezes his arm as the other girls rush towards them, their shouts not doing anything to lessen Maka's smile and Soul's crooked grin.

Above, on the second level of the lavish garden, Liz makes a cut motion with her throat. The camera stops rolling and Liz smirks over at him, pointing at the film roll. "That's it. That's gonna' be added in as extra footage when we get this show out on DVD. Everyone's going to want to find out what _really_ happened when we add it in as a tag-line on the case!" Liz looks back at her future brother-in-law, how softly he smiled at Maka as she spoke about something. The show had never really been about the other girls—it had always been about Soul and Maka because from the very time they met, from the instant Soul picked up Maka Albarn's profile and stared at her, Liz knew they would be endgame. The fans did, too, which was the reason the show was such a hit—unbeknownst to them, yet.

Soul and Maka had a sort of chemistry that even Liz swooned over and, she thinks as she walks back into the house, that sort of gentle, innocent, and burning chemistry made for quality television.


End file.
